E?l 


Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 
in  a 
Federal  Prison 

by  J.  B.  Srnul 


C&e  Hi&rarp 

oftbt 

Oniuer^itp  of  Jl3ort6  Carolina 


W&i&  book  toajs  pttgfintiD 
JL i  LU  e    A- ruh  b^  ^ 


Cp  970.78 
£71 

c.Z 


Life  of  a 
Confederate 
Soldier  in  a 
Federal  Prison 


J.  B.  ERNUL 


Vanceboro,  N.  C. 
1914 


f~ 


Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 
in  a  Federal  Prison. 


By  J.   B.   ERNUL,  Vanceboro,   N.   C. 

As  the  greater  number  of  the  boys 
of  '61  and  '65,  who  donned  the  Gray  and 
fought  for  the  Right  as  they  saw  the 
right,  have  passed  over  the  mysterious 
river  Styx  and  are  at  rest  under  the 
shade  of  the  Tree  of  Life,  and  those  who 
still  remain  must  soon  follow,  I  have  de- 
cided to  write  a  sketch  of  my  life  as  a 
Confederate   soldier. 

In  the  spring  of  1861,  while  the  men 
and  boys  were  gathering  at  every  cross- 
road and  station  to  enlist  as  soldiers  to 
drive  out  those  who  were  oppressing  the 
South,  I  became  anxious  to  cast  my  lot 
with  the  rest.  So  I  obtained  the  consent 
of  my  parents  and  joined  Co.  I,  10th 
N.  C.  Regiment,  Artillery,  but  later  on 
was  transferred  to  Infantry. 

When  not  at  drill  the  time  was  spent 
in  the  vices  of  army  life.  A  gambling 
epidemic  broke  out  which  spread  with 
great  rapidity  and  but  few  made  escape 
I  saw  men  give  half  their  rations  to  have 
the  other  cooked  rather  than  stop  gaming. 
All  kinds  of  gambling  was  practiced  mor- 
ality for  the  time  was  ignored  and  the  sol- 
dier who  endeavored  to  iive  right  was  ridi- 


2  Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 

culed.  If  caught  reading  his  Bible,  such  ex- 
pressions were  heard  as  "Hello  parson, 
you  must  be  scared,  I  don't  think  their 
will  be  any  fighting  soon"  or  "Hello  par- 
son what  time  do  you  expect  to  start  a 
revival  in  camp."  Later  on,  however, 
serious  thoughts  of  religion  prevailed. 
When  the  shot  and  shell  began  to  whiz  by 
them,  splintering  rails  and  tearing  off 
tree  tops,  with  comrades  falling  around, 
they  began  to  realize  the  great  need  of 
religion.  One  good  battery  with  a  good 
supply  of  garpe  and  shell,  holding  an 
elevated  position  could  bring  hard 
hearted  sinners  to  repentance.  It  did 
not  require  a  dozen  old  sisters  with  their 
turkey  wings  begging  them  to  repent  of 
their  sins,  They  were  truly  good  then 
but  the  great  trouble  was  in  keeping  them 
so.  If  his  life  was  spared  the  sacred  res- 
olution would  not  be  long  remembered. 
This  order  of  things  lasted  only  a  few  days, 
however,  when  some  fellow  would  slip 
around  to  the  Sutler  tent  and  purchase 
a  new  deck  of  cards,  return  to  his  quar- 
ters, pick  up  an  oilcloth  and  spread  it 
on  the  ground,  open  up  his  new  deck 
and  begin  to  shuffle.  Some  three  or  four 
others  would  step  up  and  a  regular  game 
of  seven  up  or  draw  poker  would  begin. 
In  less  than  a  week  the  Bible  reader  would 
be  a  thing  of  the  past,  when  gambling 
would  go  on  as  before  and  would   not  stop 


in  a  Federal  Prison  3 

until  the  next  signal  for  a  fight  was  heard 
in  the  front,  when  the  same  unloading 
would  take  place  with  gambling  goods. 

On  the  14th  of  March,  1862,  I  got  my 
first  experience  in  real  war,  but  as  I  am 
writing  mainly  of  my  life  in  prison  camp, 
Point  Lookout,  and  how  I  was  captured 
by  a  Yankee,  I'll  go  back  to  March  7,  1865. 

It  was  reported  that  Schoefield's  Ar- 
my Corps  was  advancing.  We  marched  to 
a  creek  to  investigate  and  found  the 
enemy  in  full  view.  They  shelled  us 
pretty  lively  all  that  evening,  but  made 
no  attempt  to  charge.  Our  commanding 
officer  decided  that  we  had  better  get  in 
their  rear.  So  we  started  to  the  rear  of 
the  "Yanks"  about  an  hour  before  day 
to  play  tag  with  them  for  a  spell.  We 
found  them  about  sunrise  and  were  re- 
ceived right  warmly.  After  much  tag- 
ging on  both  sides,  the  "Yanks"  gave 
way  and  we  captured  some  two  or  three 
thousand  of  them.  I  was  wounded  in 
my  leg,  and  seeing  a  pool  of  water  I 
thought  I  would  bathe  my  leg  and  stop 
the  blood.  While  busily  engaged  with 
my  work,  up  poked  a  "Yank"  and  said, 
"Johnny,  you  are  mine,  come  with  me 
and  I  will  take  you  to  a  summer  resort, 
we  have  room  enough  for  you  all."  We 
went  to  his  General's  headquarters,  when 
we  arrived  an  aide  went  in  the  tent  and 
the  general  came  out,    made  a  slight  bow 


Life  of  a  Confederate   Soldier 


and  I  saluted  him.  He  asked  me  many 
questions  concerning  the  troops  in  his 
rear,  then  asked  me  if  my  leg  was  pain- 
ful, called  a  doctor  who  examined  my 
wound  and  said  there  were  small  pieces 
of  bone  in  the  wound  which  made  am- 
putation necessary.  I  noticed  a  "Yank" 
standing  near  who  winked  at  me,  came 
closer   and    whispered,      "Don't   let   that 

d — butcher    take    your    leg    off."      I 

was  then  told  to  take  off  my  equipments. 
They  took  my  belt,  at  which  I  objected, 
I  told  the  general  if  I  were  going  to  a 
summer  resort  there  might  be  ladies 
there,  and  I  could  not  make  a  very  ad- 
mirable appearance  holding  my  pants 
up  writh  both  hands.  The  general  then 
told  a  soldier  to  give  me  my  belt.  The 
firing  them  began  near  us,  I  was  thrown 
on  a  horse  and  all  moved  off  lively  for  a 
mile  or  so.  We  came  to  a  place  where 
some  "Yanks"  were  cooking  and  eating. 
We  prisoners  were  dismounted  and  were 
treated  very  kindly  by  our  captors.  The 
next  morning  there  were  seven  more 
prisoners  brought  into  camp,  I  think 
they  were  Georgians,  and  not  slow  on 
the  eating  line  either.  I  heard  some  of 
the  Yankees  say  that  "  If  all  the  John- 
nies were  as  good  fighters  as  they  were 
eaters,  Schofield  had  better  retreat 
lively." 

We  lay  around  for  a  short  time  with 


in  a  Federal  Prison  5 

the  "Yanks",  eating  and  playing  cards. 
Their  food  became  scarce,  then  our 
troubles  began.  We  were  put  on  board 
a  transport  and  started  for  the"summer 
resort."  There  were  about  eight  hundred 
of  us  prisoners.  After  we  had  gotten 
out  to  sea  they  began  to  issue  rations  of 
raw  pickled  beef  and  hard  tack  to  us  of 
which  we  all  ate  heartily.  The  sea  was 
awfully  rough, '  the  waves  rolling  high 
and  soon  it  was  very  evident  that  al- 
most every  prisoner  was  suffering  dread- 
fully with  seasickness,  while  their  cries 
for  water  were  pitiable  to  hear.  After 
several  days  we  arrived  at  out  "summer 
resort."  We  were  taken  from  the  barge 
to  the  headquarters  of  the  officers. 
There  were  many  ladies  present,  I  sup- 
pose they  were  members  of  the  officers' 
families.  I    saw    some    of    the    ladies 

pointing  at  us  and  remarking,  I  suppose 
about  our  appearances.  Some  of  us 
were  barefooted,  others  without  hats, 
while  our  pants  were  worn  off  on  the 
bosoms  and  knees,  the  tails  were  heavi- 
ly fringed  denoting  long  and  hard  ser- 
vice. We  were  required  to  give  our 
names  and  commands,  names  of  States 
from  which  we  came,  after  which  we 
were  marched  to  the  "bull  pen".  On 
the  way  to  the  pen  I  saw  a  big  pile  of 
coffins  and  wondered  what  they  could  do 
with  so   many.   I   found  out  later      We 


6  Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 

got  to  the  gate.  It  was  thrown  open  and 
we  marched  in.  Things  were  looking 
bad  to  me.  The  prisoners  were  placed  in 
tents  from  eight  to  ten  to  the  tent,  with 
no  other  bedding  but  our  clothes.  The 
next  morning  we  drew  meat.  I  thought 
at  the  time  it  was  rather  small  for  a 
meal,  but  found  out  it  was  to  last  all 
day.  At  ten  o'clock,  we  drew  one-half 
loaf  of  bread  (half  loaf  to  each  man) 
and  one  pint  of  soup.  As  we  were  all 
sick  the  rations  did  very  well  for  a  while. 
On  Saturday  each  man  drew  a  loaf  of 
bread  to  last  until  Monday.  I  carefully 
hid  half  of  my  first  loaf,  I  thought  in  a 
safe  place,  but  when  I  went  for  it  Sunday 
it  was  gone.  No  one  can  imagine  my  disap- 
piontment  at  my  loss.  I  feel  sure  that 
my  bread  was  not  stolen  by  a  Confederate 
for  they  did  not  steal  (one  might  have 
borrowed  it)  and  though  I  felt  hard  to- 
wards who  ever  got  it  then,  I  have  for- 
given him  since,  if  he  were  a  Confederate 
and  only  borrowed  it.  After  that  first 
Sunday  I  hid  no  more  bread  but  put  it 
where  friends  could  not  borrow  it,  nor 
thieves  could  steal  it.  I  spent  Sun- 
days in  fasting  and  prayer,  and  in  watch- 
ing the  negro  guard  marching  around 
in  white  paper  collars  and  white  gloves, 
which  made  them  appear  more  hate- 
ful   to    us.      I    heard    some    Texans    say 


in  a  Federal   Prison  7 

"Those     black    sons    of     perdiction     are 
afraid  of  getting  sunburnt." 

After  I  had  been  in  prison  a  few  days 
I  began  to  suffer  from  hunger.  I  saw 
some  of  the  boys  eating  broiled  rats, 
they  smelled  very  appetizing,  but  I 
could  not  get  any  to  eat.  I  decided 
that  I  must  either  find  something  to  eat 
or  starve;  on  looking  about  I  saw  some 
oats  or  rye  growing  beyond  the  dead 
line,  knowing  that  it  was  death  to  be 
caught  beyond  _  the  death  line,  I  waited 
until  dark  to  venture  out  for  some  of  the 
grain.  I  thought  I  could  make  soup  of  the 
grain,  I  got  a  turn  of  it,  came  back 
and  put  it  onto  boil.  The  longer  it  boiled 
the  tougher  it  became  and  the  less  fit  it 
was  to  eat,  so  I  gave  up  trying  to  find 
more  to  eat  than  my  captors  pleased  to 
give  me. 

While  walking  about  one  day  I  acci- 
dently  passed  the  guard  at  the  hospital 
gate.  Passing  through  the  wards  down 
to  the  dead  house  I  saw  thirty  or  forty 
of  the  poorest  objects  I  had  ever  seen 
before.  There  were  two  that  looked  rath- 
er fleshy.  Seeing  a  fellow  standing  near 
I  thought  I'd  ask  some  questions,  so  be- 
gan: "How  long  have  you  been  here, 
brother?"  "Eight  months,"  he  replied. 
"Of  what  kind  of  sickness  did  those 
men  die?"  He  replied,  "They  starved 
to    death."      "What    killed    those    fleshy 


8  Life  of  a  Confederate    Soldier 

ones?"  "They  got  drowned  diving  in- 
to the  soup  kettle  for  beans."  They 
were  cooks,  he  said.  I  then  asked  him 
if  he  thought  there  was  any  chance  for 
me  to  get  cook's  place  that  I  would  galdly 
work  all  day  and  part  of  the  night  to 
keep  from  starving.  He  shook  his  head 
and  walked  off.  I  passed  on  disgusted 
with  all  I  had  seen. 

Now  I  am  coming  to  the  toughest 
thing  I  had  ever  struck.  After  leaving 
the  dead  house  I  came  to  the  guard.  He 
told  me  to  halt.  I  told  him  that  I  be- 
longed to  the  other  side  and  must  go. 
Holding  his  gun  up  so  that  I  could  see 
down  its  barrel,  he  said,  "That  ball  is 
whirling  fast,  it  wants  to  get  out."  He 
then  called  a  white  man,  who  came  and 
talked  to  me  awhile,  and  then  said, 
"You  need  some  jewelry,  something  like 
a  twelve  pound  ball  and  chain."  Oh! 
horror  of  horrors,  if  any  of  my  piney- 
woods  friends  would  have  heard  me  then. 
But  my  pleadings  were  all  in  vain.  I  sat 
down  and  received  the  jewelry.  I  sat 
there  for  a  while  thinking.  I  can't  ex- 
press how  badly  I  felt — can't  remember 
a  time  when  I  felt  worse.  I  felt  ever 
so  much  better  a  few  years  later  when 
I  asked  my  girl  a  civil  question  and  got 
the    right    answer.      I    finally    concluded, 

that  as  long  as  that   d ball   and 

cham  must  be  my  constant  torment  fov 


in  a  Federal  Prison  9 

a  while  at  least,  I  had  just  as  well  move 
off  with  it,  so  I  gathered  it  up  and  went 
to  my  tent.     The  boys  just  gazed  at  me 

when   I    threw   the   d thing  on   the 

ground  in  my  tent.  My  bunk  mate 
asked  me  what  had  happened,  and  I 
gave  them  the  whole  story.  After  I  had 
told  him  all  about  it,  my  bunk  mate  said 
"That  darn  thing  will »  give  you  more 
trouble  than  twins  ever  gave  their  moth- 
er at  night."  I  don't  think  he  missed 
it  far  either.  If  possible  I  think  my 
jewelry  gave  me  more  trouble  at  night 
when  the  Jerusalem  overtakers  were  on 
strictest  duty.  I  began  to  notice  that 
those  who  had  been  wearing  a  ball  and 
chain  were  not  wearing  them  any  more, 
so  I  began  inquiring  and  learned  that 
there  was  a  person  in  camp  who  had  a 
file  and  would  file  a  ball  and  chain  off 
for  a  chew  of  tobacco,  I  found  him  and 
had  soon  concluded  a  bargain.  The  gate 
on  the  bay  stayed  open  during  the  day 
time.  Anyone  noticing  would  have  seen 
me  going  toward  the  end  of  the  wharf 
carrying  my  haversack,  but  only  one 
person  knew  what  it  contained.  That 
ball  and  chain  is  now  resting  on  the 
bottom  of  Chesapeake  Bay. 

The  greatest  difficulty  in  prison  was 
the  necessity  of  getting  through  the  first 
few  days  with  nothing  to  do.  These 
hours    dragged    slowly.    Some    were    able 


10  Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 

to  pass  a  great  number  in  sleeping. 
Those  of  less  nerve  slept  fifteen  or  more 
hours,  but  others  found  such  indulgence 
impossible  and  were  forced  to  seek  other 
methods  of  enduring  the  tiresome  days 
and  nights. 

There  were  some  very  amusing  things 
happened  in  camp.  Now  to  think  of 
such  as  toting  barrels  and  boxes  every 
day,  but  to  see  thousands  of  the  boys  on 
a  fair  evening  with  their  shirts  off  hunting 
the  seams  for — -we  know  what — so  they  u 
might  get  a  little  rest,  for  the  Jerusalem 
overtakers  were  very  bad  and  a  bit  sharp. 

One  amusing  feature  of  prison  life 
was  a  barber  who  would  daily  walk 
through  the  camp  and  repeat,  "Here 
goes  your  good  old  Tar  Heel  barber,  will 
shave  you  for  a  chew  of  tobacco.  If  any- 
one will  shave  you  cheaper,  I'll  give  you 
a  chew  to  let  me  shave  you." 

In  prison  camp  I  belonged  to  Com- 
pany I,  Sixth  Division,  near  the  big  cross 
ditch. 

On  the  11th  of  June,  1865  a  notice  was 
put  on  the  bulletin  board  that  all  the 
prisoners  were  to  be  discharged.  This 
notice  brought  forth  the  most  joyous 
yells  I  had  heard  in  months.  About 
twenty  thousand  men  and  boys  made  a 
rush  for  the  gate.  Each  man  gave  his 
name,  company,  regiment  and  State, 
the    same    as    when    he    entered    prison, 


in  a  Federal  Prison  1 1 

then  received  his  discharge.  My  name 
happened  to  be  among  the  first  called.  I 
think  I  smiled  for  the  first  time  in 
months.  I  gave  my  name,  company, 
regiment  and  State,  took  the  oath  and 
received  my  parole,  which  I  still  have. 
We  were  put  aboard  a  boat  about  dark 
and  started  for  Richmond,  Va.  We 
arrived  in  Richmond  about  4  p.m.  The 
next  day  we  got  off  the  boat  and  the 
guard  told  us  to  move  on.  As  we  did 
not  at  first  know  which  way  to  move, 
there  was  a  little  confusion.  We  were 
given  permission  to  camp  in  the  Capitol 
square  until  we  could  get  transportation 
home.  While  passing  Libby  prison  a 
Yankee  called  to  me  and  said,  "Johnnie, 
don't  you  want  some  boiled  pork  and 
hard  tack?"  I  smiled  or  tried  to  smile 
an  answer.  He  gave  me  about  two 
pounds  of  pork  and  filled  my  haversack 
with  hard  tack.  I  am  sure  that  Yankee's 
heart  was  in  the  right  place  and  believe 
he  will  get  his  reward  for  passing  "the 
cup  of  water."  I  had  gathered  up  a  lot 
of  cigar  stumps  on  my  way  to  camp,  so 
I  ate  pork  and  hardtack  and  chewed  and 
smoked  cigar  stumps  nearly  all  at  the 
same  time.     I  slept  well  that  night. 

We  got  transportation  by  way  of  Dan- 
ville, Va.,  Greensboro,  N.  C,  Raleigh, 
N.  C,  and   New  Bern,   N    C.     The  next 


12  Life  of  a  Confederate  Soldier 

day  after  we  reached  New  Bern  I  got  to 
my  home,  June  23d,  1865. 

Well,  it  is  all  over  now,  and  I  do  not 
feel  unkindly  toward  the  Northern  sol- 
dier who  fought  because  he  felt  it  his 
duty  to  fight.  We  only  differed  in  opin- 
ion. Some  one  is  to  blame  though 
for  placing  black,  ignorant  brutes  as 
guards  over  Confederate  prisoners.  I 
don't  think  there  are  many  of  those 
prisoners  who  can  forgive  and  forget 
that  much  of  the  past.  I  can't  under- 
stand who  or  why  any  Southern  white 
man  can  vote  any  ticket  except  the 
Democratic  ticket  today.  It  seems  to 
me  that  there  must  be  something  wrong 
in  the  upper-story  of  the  Republican 
voters  of  the  South.  But  that  too,  is,  I 
suppose,  just  a  difference  in  opinions. 


$r0  2-  Z 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00032769923 

FOR  USE  ONLY  IN 
THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  COLLECTION 


'9CT  2o  fesg 


Form  No.  A-368 


